


There's Blood on our Hands

by x_nano_x



Category: Dying Light (Video Game), Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dying Light AU, F/F, Heather's a bitch (duh), JD's a bitch (mega duh), Keep an eye on Veronica, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, past JDronica
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_nano_x/pseuds/x_nano_x
Summary: She hopped from building to building, using the skills JD had taught her many months before. It generally kept her out of reach from the infected, however, it became increasingly irritating to have to keep kicking the virals off as they climbed - persistent little fuckers. Her wrench was far too battered to be able to do much, she was running low on supplies and she was fresh out of gauze - if she didn't make it to that tower, she wouldn't make the night.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	There's Blood on our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy New Year ALLL the shit  
> Hope yall had a great holiday!
> 
> New thing, with stuff - read please lol  
> Hope you enjoy

They were gaining, virals were sprinting from every direction, followed by the endless infected - sauntering with doom in their gait. All she could do was run. Her legs burned, stomach churned and her knees bled. The cold air brushed against her tired body with thorns, cutting into the existing wounds and layering on the exhaustion. Wrench tightly gripped, she swung at the horde in front of her, used her withering strength to shove them away or kicked at them. The blood from their decaying bodies was almost black, sticking to her face and mixing with the mud. A viral caught up, pouncing and going for the bite - only to be met with thrashing and kicks, forced back and away. 

She spat out dirt, picking herself up from the ground and making a desperate climb up the building, away from the viral that she had just managed to kick away. She winced as it screamed, alerting other infected in the area. _Shit,_ she thought, hissing as cut her thumb on the chipped brick - she sat on the roof and watched as the sunset over the horizon. There were harsher dangers to come, she'd need to find shelter soon (and perhaps a UV light) if she wanted to make the night. From the distance, she saw a tower glowing a soft purple - safezone - she could sneak in there to escape the volatiles for the night.

She hopped from building to building, using the skills JD had taught her many months before. It generally kept her out of reach from the infected, however, it became increasingly irritating to have to keep kicking the virals off as they climbed - _persistent little fuckers._ Her wrench was far too battered to be able to do much, she was running low on supplies and she was fresh out of gauze - if she didn't make it to that tower, she wouldn't make the night. 

Night was closing in quickly, blanketing the slums of Harran in the coming darkness, distant cries of volatiles rang out as they came from hiding - ready to rip lingering survivors to pieces. Just as she was closing in on the tower, a group of bandits struck from a higher building, landing on her and pushing through the weak wooden roof she was on. Bandits. They had become scarce since the virus broke out of Harran, moving to newly devastated areas for supplies, but there were still plenty of stragglers left in the slums - plenty more in Old Town. She picked herself up for the second time, ready with her battered wrench, she wasn't going to die sitting down, she'd die in a fight. 

The bandit's lifted their weapons, pointing their old police rifles straight her face - with desperate fury, she smacked on with the wrench and knocked it out of the masked man's hands. 

"Taking Rai's old shit? How fucking original." She teased, smirking at the man scrambling for his fallen weapon.

"That's a whole lotta talk for a dead girl-" He didn't finish, a bullet shot straight through his forehead, his eyes died instantly and his body followed suit, dropping to the floor. The others followed, brought down by bullets from the night - and a light cheer once they were all taken down. Two girls replaced them, they didn't look any older than her - one wore a green t-shirt and some old cargos, the other had the same - but yellow. Their faces were dirtied, they both wore scrunchies on their wrists and _fucking hell_ they looked familiar.

"Veronica?" The one in green asked with squinted eyes as she made an effort to recognise her, they widened as she did, "Holy shit, it _is_ you!"

'Veronica' squinted, taking a step back - remnants from her school trip two years ago? She had thought JD and her were the only survivors - par Dennis, who had died in her arms a month after the virus broke out. "Heather?"

"In the flesh!" The girl in green smirked, nudging the one in yellow, "And Heather, of course." The usual bitchiness was missing from her tone, Veronica had faint memories of her reading apocalypse books in the library when Moby Dick wasn't an option - perhaps this of all things gave her the excitement she missed out on. The girl in yellow gave a shy smile and wave.

"We should head back, the Volatiles are definitely out now." Duke nodded to her companion, shooting a look at Veronica.

"You coming?"

"Definitely."

* * *

The trio made it to the tower in almost one piece, a volatile had come out of nowhere and caught Mac's leg - she'd need to get to a medic pretty quickly. The Tower was huge, it's lowest levels were covered in UV lights, right up to the third floor - the ones on the higher floors looked significantly newer than the ground floor's. The outside was reinforced with plenty of traps; some electric, others spiked - walking through, Veronica noted the number of people on-guard with firearms and machetes. Some had old civilian clothes, others were dressed up in cargos and t-shirts. 

They took the lift up a few floors to get Mac to the medic, an older looking woman with a permanent scowl on her face. She huffed when they walked in and was quick to get Duke and Veronica out. "Don't mind her," Heather had said, "she's always like that, you get used to it." Heather lead her up to the next floor, to a rather large room with broken windows and an old terrace on the outside. At the far end, stood a girl with a red blazer wrapped around her waist, scrunchie on her wrist and a constant air of entitlement and cargos. 

"Heather..." Veronica breathed, of all the people she thought were dead, Chandler was at the top - after what JD had told her. From beside her, Duke gave a chuckle but left them with a pointed look from the leader. Veronica found herself examined by Heather, scrutinised at her lack of supplies and judged at the state of her clothes. 

"You're alive," She said bluntly, "barely."

"Gee, thanks" 

"Where have you been?" She asked, still looking down on the brunette. 

"Surviving. How many of you are alive?"

The room soured, Heather adopted a look resembling sorrow as she walked over to the window - her flair for the dramatic, "All of us- well apart from you, trenchcoat boy and Dennis, but shit declined over the last two years." She sat up on the desk and picked up an old knife to fiddle with, "We ran with Brecken - weird-ass English bloke," She put 'bloke' in air-quotes and put on a terrible accent to accompany it, "he taught us parkour and survival shit -" She went on and explained how a man showed up and stirred a lot of shit. Crane. Veronica heard of him in passing, he was infamous among Rais' men, he got himself infected a while back - he spread the virus out of Harran. 

_He was ex-GRE or something, right?_ She asked internally, while mindlessly nodding at Heather's overzealous story of her adventures - she would just ask Duke for the realistic rundown later on. 

"-How long are you staying?" Veronica caught the end, she didn't expect a sell-by date for protection - not since it seemed that her old classmates were running the tower. She tried her luck.

"How long _can_ I?"

Heather shook her head, "Unless you have anything useful, you can fuck off by tomorrow." _Classic Heather._

She sighed, she would have to offer to run with them, but she knew she'd get the shit jobs - Heather made it clear they weren't friends before, so she'd get no favours. Resigning, Veronica spoke, "My services?"

"Oh?"

"I can gather. Y'know, intel or supplies, shit like that." Heather smirked at her words.

"Perfect." She'd probably been hoping for that answer, "Then fuck off somewhere else, for now - I'm busy."

She was more than happy to leave. 

Somehow, lugging herself out of the room was more torturous than the endless running and climbing she did on the outside, the continuous sweating and bleeding, the scavenging... Two years on the brink had clearly not dulled the demon queen of high-school. Duke's chuckling as she walked out helped nothing, neither did the sympathetic pat on the back. The two walked in silence to the next floor, while Duke explained how they had cleared out and done up the place a little better, clearing space for a makeshift mess-hall on the roof and extra rooms, infirmaries and common rooms on the other floors. 

"How come you're so chipper?" Veronica asked finally, Heather smirked at that.

"Let's just say basic intelligence actually means something around here." Then Veronica smiled, Duke found a use - she wasn't really cut out for the cutthroat popularity of Westerburg, she had brains - brains that were useless in that scene. 

"Good for you." Veronica replied, tone airy. 

They finally got to the roof, which was littered with UV lights and candles - there were a few tables scattered around and, sitting on the upper level, were a few headstones. Veronica would have to climb up and look later, Heather mentioned offhandedly that they were departed friends, to which the brunette nodded somberly. Despite the shithole they were stuck in, the daily grind of surviving and ever-growing mortality rate, the people around her looked... Cheerful. Some were sharing drinks, others had small campfires going - cooking some unfortunate squirrel or mouse - and others shared out the nonperishables they'd found in the homes. It was a community. In one corner, she saw Ram teaching some scrawny kid how to throw a punch and Kurt was acting as the punching bag. 

"The apocalypse gave those two some humanity," Duke said, "they're still asshats, though." Elbowing Veronica with a smirk. She couldn't disagree.

_How did JD get it so wrong?_

**Author's Note:**

> Its short, sorry about that, but I was a little unsure about it. Hope you liked! I really want to continue this


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